Todos os capítulos de The Billionaire’s Forgotten Bride: Capítulo 31 - Capítulo 40

Amelia POVNate and I started meeting more often—coffee in the mornings, long walks in the evening, sometimes just sitting in the park with takeaway sandwiches between us, talking about everything and nothing. He was easy to be around. Effortless in the way old friends often are, where silence didn’t scream and laughter didn’t have to be earned.For a while, it felt like I was breathing again.Like I wasn’t walking a tightrope every second of the day.Like I wasn’t someone’s wife.I didn’t tell him. About Maxwell. About the whole charade in the name of marriage.Not because I didn’t trust him.But I wasn’t ready to see his face change. To see his posture stiffen or that ease between us vanish. Nate was the only thing in my world right now that wasn’t poisoned by guilt, manipulation, or cold control. He didn’t hate me just by seeing me, and I needed that. I craved that feeling so bad. I needed just one thing in my life to feel untouched by the chaos.So I let him believe I was just… m

Maxwell povThe house was quiet, but my mind wasn’t.I’d barely slept a wink since the confrontation that happened minutes ago. Amelia’s words played on repeat, echoing in every corner of my brain. Her voice, the tremble of it when she said I used her… when she said I never cared. That look in her eyes—part pain, part defiance—haunted me. She wasn’t the same girl I brought into this house.She was changing, slipping through my fingers like smoke.And I hated it but deep down her anger was justified. The staff had been whispering for weeks. At first, I dismissed it—house gossip, a way to pass the time in this tomb of a home. But when my mother said the same thing… when Victoria chimed in, all smug and certain…Doubt took root.What if they were right?What if Amelia had found someone else?What if I were truly losing her?The idea clawed at my insides like a beast, ugly and loud. I wasn’t supposed to care. This marriage was convenient—calculated. But when I heard the accusations thro

Amelia POVThe cab ride felt longer than it was. Maybe it was the silence, or perhaps it was the churning anxiety twisting tighter in my chest with every mile. I sat stiffly, fingers laced in my lap, staring out the window like the passing city lights could offer answers I hadn’t found in Nate’s eyes.I wasn’t ready to go home.I wasn’t ready to face what waited on the other side of that front door.Maxwell might be there—or worse, he might not. And somehow, both possibilities felt like a punch.When the cab finally pulled into the long driveway, my stomach dropped. The mansion loomed ahead, dark and still. My eyes darted across the windows, searching for any flicker of light, movement, or him. But nothing. Just shadows.I paid the driver with shaky fingers and stepped out into the cold night air. My heels clicked against the stone path, too loud in the silence. The weight of the front door pressed against me before I even touched it.What if he was there, waiting, angry?What if he w

Amelia POVThe house was too quiet.I sat in the dimly lit living room, hands clasped tightly around a mug of cold tea I hadn’t touched in hours. Outside, the sky had long since surrendered to night, cloaking everything in a velvet darkness broken only by the occasional flash of headlights passing by.But not his.Maxwell still hadn’t returned.I didn’t know what I was waiting for anymore—an apology, an explanation… or just the damn divorce papers. Something final. Something that would stop this endless waiting, this sick feeling of limbo that had stolen the air from my lungs since the moment he walked back through the door and shattered me all over again.I couldn’t take it anymore. I wouldn’t.The second he came through that door, I’d tell him—no more silence. No more tiptoeing. I’d demand the divorce and end this sick game before it broke me for good.The clock ticked past midnight.And then it happened—the harsh screech of tires on gravel, the unmistakable sound of a door slamming

Maxwell POVThe morning light spilled across the bedroom floor in soft gold, illuminating the delicate curve of her shoulder where the sheet had slipped away. Amelia was still asleep, her breathing slow and even, her hair a tangle against the pillow. For a moment, I simply stood there and watched her. My chest tightened in a way I hadn’t felt in years—like something fragile and alive had sprouted there overnight.I couldn’t keep running from this. I’d spent too long denying what she meant to me. Last night, feeling her in my arms, hearing her voice whispering my name, it had burned away every pretense. I’d never meant the words I love you more than I did then. And seeing her here this morning—so heartbreakingly beautiful and real—I knew I didn’t want to pretend anymore.I’d make it right, I decided. I’d tell her again, sober and unguarded. Maybe then she would believe I wasn’t just saying it in a moment of weakness.Quietly, I slipped out of the room, determined to make us breakfast.